


Eve's Apple Part I

by tess1978



Series: Eve's Apple [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Driving away my readers right from the getgo, F/F, Gen, Humor, Inappropriate use of company tech, November Image Prompt, Origin Story, Texting, there's no smut in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8572822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess1978/pseuds/tess1978
Summary: What started as a joke between me and a friend turned into a bit of a long, serious fic. Two young women in the Institute bond over their love for delicious male body parts. Lydia, who has an aptitude for tech, hacks into the synth creation software to compile the images they have collected. But she makes a mistake and the synth is created. They retrieve the newborn M7-97 and hide him away, but their actions did not go unnoticed. This is the story of how Paladin Danse was created and escaped the Institute. Also part of the November image prompt contest for Likegoodangels. Part One of Three. Part two will cover Danse's interactions with the Sole Survivor and Part Three will be... well I know the ending.





	1. Oops

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likegoodangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likegoodangels/gifts).



> I had this story kicking around for a while, but the image prompt contest gave me the boost I needed and the inspiration to finally show it to the public.
> 
> (Remaining chapters to be posted today I just ran out of time.)

02:14 16/09/2274  
LR: YOU UP?  
IS: YES CANT SLEEP.  
IS: TOO MANY PICTURES. I MIGHT HAVE FOUND A BETTER ONE.HA.  
LR: SEND SOME  
IS: IMG.7544690  
IS : IMG.8643476  
IS: GOT IT?  
LR: YES. THANKS.  
LR: THAT WAS GOOD BUT I THINK THE FIRST ONE FROM YESTERDAY  
IS: THE ROUNDER ONE?  
LR: YEAH.  
IS: HA. AGREED. OK, SO THE ROUNDER ASS, AND THE BACK FROM THE SECOND ONE? THE ONE FROM THURSDAY?  
LR: YEAH!  
IS: HEHE. OK AND  
IS: THIS IS STILL ENCRYPTED RIGHT?!  
LR: OF COURSE  
IS: OK GOOD. SO THE BLACK HAIR  
LR: THICK BLACK HAIR  
IS: THICK BLACK HAIR. BROWN EYES. THE JAW FROM THE FIRST FACE BUT THOSE BROWS FROM THE SECOND RIGHT?  
LR:YEAH. AND THE THIGHS AS WELL AS THE ABS FROM THAT FIRST PICTURE FROM A FEW WEEKS AGO  
IS: THE JOKE ONE? THAT STARTED THIS?  
LR:YES  
IS: HAHA. WOW. I WILL EMAIL THE FILES ALL TOGETHER  
IS: DID YOU GET IT?  
IS: LYDIA?  
LR: YES SORRY. I GOT… DISTRACTED HAHA  
LR: CHEST HAIR?  
IS: OF COURSE. THICK BUT NOT ON THE BACK. NOT LIKE A GORILLA  
IS: BIO IS THINKING OF MAKING GORILLAS BY THE WAY  
LR: SHUT UP  
IS: REALLY  
LR: WHAT A BUNCH OF ASSHOLES  
LR: I DON’T KNOW WHY FATHER LETS THEM JUST DO WHATEVER.  
IS: YEAH  
LR: I’VE ENTERED IT  
LR: IT CAME UP WITH AN IMAGE  
LR: WANT TO SEE?  
IS: YES I DO PLEASE! HA!  
LR: IMG.5324754  
IS: THAT  
IS: IS  
IS: AMAZING.  
IS: YOU’RE RIGHT, WE CAME UP WITH THE PERFECT MALE SPECIMEN. HA. I AM KEEPING THIS PICTURE FOREVER  
LR: SHIT  
LR: FUCK SHIT FUCK  
IS: WHAT  
LR: I SENT IT BY ACCIDENT  
IS: NO? TO WHO?  
IS: LYDIA WHAT HAPPENED????!!!!  
IS: LYDIA ANSWER ME  
IS: |

Isabel Simon jumped when the knock came at her door. She got up from the terminal where she’d been messaging her friend Lydia Ruez, threw her bathrobe on, and ran to the door. She opened it to find Lydia standing outside, her face flushed and her dark hair coming out of a hastily thrown together ponytail. 

“What did you do?” Izzy said, as quietly as she could manage. It was the middle of the night, and voices sometimes carried oddly in the weird curved hallways of the Institute.

“I sent the specs to Robotics. There’s probably nobody there but it’s going to make the synth.”

“Crap. Ok, let’s go.” Izzy stuck her feet into her shoes and the two women set off towards the synth manufacturing facility as quickly as they could. 

The door was locked when they arrived, but Lydia immediately began tapping on the terminal, and a moment later the door slid open.

The two women ran inside. “Is there time to stop it?” asked Izzy. Lydia didn’t answer. She was typing quickly at the main terminal. Izzy turned to look as the machinery above began to move. “I guess not…” she said.

Lydia stepped back from the terminal. There was nothing she could do. She took Izzy’s hand and they watched together as the equipment swiftly assembled the custom designed synth. Bones first, bigger than usual. He was going to be tall. The musculature took longer than usual as well. He was also bulky. 

The next part was the part where the organs were activated, Izzy remembered from the field trip they went on in Tenth Year. Technically it was alive now, but he couldn’t live without an epidermis. She clenched Lydia’s hand tighter. The synth needed to rest a moment at this station for all the organs to completely activate. 

“What are we going to do with him?” Izzy whispered while they waited. 

“We’re going to have to hide him.” 

“Won’t it show in the records that a synth was created?”

“I think I can delete the record,” Lydia whispered back. 

Izzy was going to speak again, but Lydia hushed her. The machine was moving again. 

It lifted the frame and placed it in the epidermal fluid, and the pool began to bubble. A moment later, the women gasped as a large form emerged from the red fluid. 

He was completely nude and hairless, but that was to be expected. Synths grew hair the same as regular people, and they all came out bald. He was tall, about 6’4”, Izzy estimated, with big brown eyes and a startled expression. Full lips, broad shoulders, flat stomach… Izzy blushed as her eyes slid lower. 

Yeah, that’s what they had been looking at. She coughed and looked away for a moment, but looked up again as the synth stepped up to them. He towered over them both, especially Izzy. “I’m new here,” he said. His voice was deeper than any other synth she’d met, a little gravelly, and absolutely the most attractive voice she’d ever heard. 

Oh lordy. 

She just stood there a moment, in shock at this amazing male specimen they’d inadvertently created. 

Lydia managed to pull herself together a bit more quickly than Izzy. “Find him something to wear,” she said. “I’m going to try to delete the record.”

Izzy shook her head as the giant synth stared at her expectantly. She looked around, and finding nothing, she panicked for a moment, before suddenly realizing she was wearing her bathrobe over her pyjamas. She took it off and gave it to the synth. He tried to put his arms into it, but Izzy wasn’t much more than a couple inches over five feet tall, and petite to boot, so there wasn’t much chance of that working. 

After a moment Izzy stepped forward to help. She tried not to stare at him too much as she wrapped the bathrobe around him lengthwise, tying it with the strap into a kind of kilt. When she stepped back and smiled up at him, he tentatively smiled back, and her heart flipped over in her chest. 

A sound from Lydia drew their attention. “I can delete the record, no problem. But I can’t remove his designation, it’s hardwired in. They were at the end of a run, and there’s going to be a hole in the listing indicating a synth that was made but with no record of his specs or allocation. They’re going to know he exists.”

“What’s his designation?” 

“M7-97.”

***

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at the synth they had inadvertently created. As stressful as this accident was, she couldn’t help but be impressed. He was absolutely stunning. Towering over both of them, probably wider than they were together, and well shaped too. His ass was round and firm, and his thighs were thick…

Lydia swallowed hard. 

He was a walking fantasy. But he was a synth. And she’d grown up being taught that synths were not people. They had always bothered her a bit, with their dead looking eyes and quiet obedience. And she could tell by watching him as he obeyed Izzy’s directions without hesitation that this one was the same. She was half-tempted to send him to synth orientation like he would have if he was any other synth, but she knew she couldn’t. He was very extraordinary looking, and would stand out like a sore thumb. He’d be scrapped immediately, and it wouldn't take long for them to figure out where he’d come from. 

No, better that they hide him until they could figure out what to do with him. 

“We can’t take him to either of our quarters,” she told Izzy. 

Izzy nodded. “I know a place.” she said. “You need to be very quiet,” she ordered M7-97, and the large synth simply nodded, his brown eyes wide. Izzy led him out of robotics, and Lydia relocked the door with the terminal. After that they crept quietly down the hallways to an old, abandoned section Izzy used to play in as a child. 

They found a small room with a door that locked, and the women told M7 to wait there. They left him there for about an hour and then came back with some bedding, food, and clothing. The only thing they could find to fit was a large t-shirt and sweatpants that used to belong to Lydia’s father, and they tried not to stare as he stretched the shirt over his chest and pulled the too-tight pants on. 

He smiled and thanked them when they gave him the food, and he sat on the bedding and ate while they watched. 

Finally, Lydia crouched down and said, “We have to leave you here, until tomorrow night. You have to stay hidden. You weren’t supposed to be made. Izzy and I will be back tomorrow…” her words tapered off as his eyes grew wider and he began to shake.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want to be alone. I don’t like the dark. Is it going to be dark?”

Lydia looked at him in dismay. Were all new synths this… innocent? Her heart broke. She had no idea. She looked at Izzy, then back at M7. He looked at Izzy as she got down next to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. 

“No, honey, don’t be scared. I- we- uh… We’ll figure something out. I’ll call in sick tomorrow. I’ll stay.”

Lydia nodded. She could cover for Izzy. And maybe tomorrow she could find some more supplies and figure out what to do with their contraband synth. She stood up and looked down at M7, who was still shaking a bit, even with Izzy’s arms around his shoulders. She felt a small twinge of jealousy, and wished she could stay too. 

Instead, she smiled down at them, and ran her hand gently down the side of M7’s face, tilting it to look up at her. Izzy will take care of you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ok?”

M7 blinked and then smiled back at her, making her heart beat just a little faster in her chest. 

She straightened up, and then said goodbye and walked to her room.

She had a very difficult time falling asleep.


	2. Autumn

M7-97 looked at the small person who was still with him and frowned slightly. He would have felt better if they had both stayed, but he had the idea that something was wrong. That he wasn’t supposed to have been made and needed to be hidden for some reason. There was a small lamp in the room with them, but the hall outside was dark, and he was afraid. He didn’t know what was in the dark. Maybe there were bad people or creatures. 

But he knew the small person was going to help him, so he smiled at her and sat back down. He sat next to her. “What is your designation?” he asked.

“Isabel. Isabel Simon. But you can call me Izzy. My friend is Lydia Ruez. Do you know your designation?”

He thought for a moment. “M7-97.”

Izzy nodded at him, and he smiled, pleased he’d gotten the answer correct. 

“We need to sleep. It’s late now. Tomorrow we need to figure out what to do with you.”

“What does that mean?” M7 was afraid again. Was he going to be...thrown away?”

“I don’t know, M7. We will keep you safe for now, lets sleep on it.”

He didn’t know what sleep was, but she laid down on the bedding and indicated he do the same, so he laid down next to her. She covered them in the blanket, and it made him feel warm. He turned on his side and put his arm around her. She was warm too. And very small. She fit right inside the space between his arm and his bent up leg. 

He laid still a moment, and then he realized that she was breathing really hard. Is that how you sleep? Breathe hard? He took a big breath in, and then out again. He closed his eyes. He felt safe, but he didn’t know why. He felt like Izzy would keep him safe, even though she was so small. 

He didn’t notice when he fell asleep.

***

When Lydia returned the next afternoon, she found Izzy and M7 sitting next to each other on the bedding. Izzy must have left at some point during the day, because she had books that they hadn’t brought the night before, and there was a small lamp and a radio plugged into the wall socket, and she had somehow found him some pants, a shirt, and a sweater that seemed to fit him more correctly. 

Izzy looked up from the book they had been looking at and smiled at Lydia when she came in. “He can read,” she said, “but he likes the books with pictures. He likes to match things up with the words.”

M7 smiled too. “Hello, Lydia Ruez. I missed you. Are you going to stay with us now?”

Lydia sat down next to the synth. “Yes, I think we can both stay, at least until morning. I brought some food.”

They all ate together, while M7 continued to flip through the book he was reading, asking the occasional question. 

M7 liked the book. It had all the seasons in it. Izzy had explained all the seasons to him. The seasons were the times of the year Above. Sometimes it was white, sometimes it was green and blue, and sometimes it was orange and yellow. M7 liked the orange and yellow one the most, and he stared at it while he ate, wondering why the green parts of the trees turned orange. 

When they were finished eating, Lydia pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” she said. “So I hacked back into the robotics computer again to try and see if I could erase the M7-97 log from the listing. I couldn’t, but what I did do was I deleted the files on a few other synths in the M7 line. Hopefully they will think it’s a computer glitch of some kind. That should buy us some time.”

Lydia sighed. “Also your roommate is looking for you. I told her I was upset and you came to visit me last night. I was thinking maybe we should request a quarters transfer. Maybe we can come down here more if we only have each other to account for.”

Izzy nodded. “That sounds good. I… was kind of wanting to ask if you wanted to be roommates anyways, but I was a bit afraid you wouldn’t want to.” 

Lydia looked at her best friend, who was turning a bit red around the ears. Suddenly she laughed and threw her arms around the smaller woman. “Of course I want to! You’re my best friend and I love you.” Warmth bloomed in her chest as Isabel hugged her back. 

Suddenly they were jolted as large arms wrapped around both of them, and a gravelly voice said, “You are both my best friend and I love you!”

***

The next few weeks passed in a flurry of activity. The quarters transfer was approved and the two young women moved in together. In the confusion, they were able to procure some more items for M7-97, including more books. 

He read a lot, and had moved on from picture books to more mature reading material. He liked novels but he really enjoyed books about science and technology, so they brought as many as they could. He still liked the book of seasons, however, and he looked at the pages often. The book was called We All Dance and the words explained how the snowflakes danced as they fell in the winter, the butterflies danced in the breeze in the spring, and the clouds danced in the sky in the summer, and the leaves danced when they fell in the autumn. He looked at it while Izzy and Lydia talked. 

The deletion of synth records had held off suspicions for a few days, however once the robotics department had accounted for all the synths in the M7 production run and discovered there was one missing, they had begun to search for the lost synth. Fortunately, they were searching for a slim, dirty blond synth like the rest of the M7’s. Unfortunately, M7-97 was so remarkable, there was no way they could bring him out where people could see him. Lydia had never seen anyone that tall before. He would stick out like a sore thumb.

She also knew M7 was lonely. He spent most of his time alone with his books, and when either Izzy or Lydia or both of them returned at night to bring him food and spend the night with him, he peppered them with questions about the things he’d read during the day and listened raptly as they told him about their activities. He had even got them to show him how to dance like his book one time. They weren’t very good at it, but he thought it was pretty anyway, and he stood and picked them both up and spun them around until they all got dizzy and fell down. 

He was still afraid of the dark although he had decided to be brave about it and would no longer admit it to them. He liked to sleep with both of them the best, one on each side, and Lydia had to admit she loved it too. The abandoned section was cold, and M7 was particularly warm and pleasant to cuddle with, as they were doing right now. 

Lydia lay with her head tucked into M7’s shoulder. He was clearly asleep, his breathing slow and regular. She was starting to worry about the situation. As much as she cared about M7 and loved spending time with him and Izzy, she knew this couldn’t last. Even if Robotics or Synth Retention never found him, he couldn’t live his whole life in a room in the basement. It was just cruel. They were going to have to come to a decision.

“Izzy,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” the reply came back. “What’s up?”

“We’re going to have to get him out of the Institute,” she said.

There was a long sigh and then a few moments of silence from the other side of the synth. 

“Iz?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know. I just… he… How is he going to survive out in the wasteland above? It’s brutal and full of monsters and bad people and radiation… He’s so…”

Lydia could feel Izzy’s arm move as she hugged M7 a little tighter. She reached out and took the other woman’s hand, locking their fingers together.

“We’re going to have to teach him as much as we can before he goes. We need to figure out how to get him out first anyways. At least we have a few more weeks.”

***

M7-97 was not asleep. He had heard the entire conversation. He knew what the wasteland was, he had read it in a book. It was the world above, and the seasons were no more, a thing of the past. He was afraid, but he knew Izzy and Lydia loved him, and would only do what was best for him. So if he had to be brave and go to the wasteland, he would.


	3. S4-37

Lydia sat in the Atrium at lunch. She didn’t have time to go visit M7 on her break today. Her increasing absences were becoming noticed. She had decided to take a quick half hour to get a meal and sit in the artificial sunlight under the trees. 

As she picked at her packet of nutritional supplements she watched the people in the Atrium going about their business. There were several synths, mostly gen 3’s and gen 2’s, dressed in their synth uniforms and doing their assigned tasks. The gen 2’s were as expected, quietly working in the background. But the gen 3’s…

Lydia had never noticed before how their eyes slid cautiously to the scientists and other humans when they came near, how they cowered and looked away, trying to look busy. How their shoulders slumped a little in relief when the humans passed by without noticing them. She hadn’t noticed because she hadn’t really looked. 

But it was quickly becoming clear that fear wasn’t unique to M7-97. All the synths seemed to be afraid of the humans they worked for. Lydia frowned. She wasn’t sure why. As far as she knew, the denizens of the Institute weren’t cruel to the synths. They didn’t hit or whip them. She rarely ever saw anyone yelling at them. 

Maybe fearfulness was just a glitch in their programming. She nodded to herself. That had to be it. 

Her eyes drifted to the synth she had been watching. When the scientist was out of sight, the synth stood up a little straighter and continued trimming the tree she had been working on. But before she could look away, uninterested, she noticed another nearby synth approaching the first one. He came up to her, and Lydia’s eyes widened as he reached out and rubbed the first synth’s arm briefly, in what looked like a reassuring manner. The first synth looked at the second and smiled briefly in what could only be described as gratitude, before looking away guiltily and carrying on with her work.

Lydia was more confused than ever. 

***

Unbeknownst to Lydia, while she sat in the Atrium watching synths, a synth was watching her. S4-32 stood leaning against the railing near the door to Synth Retention, watching the activity below. She was dressed differently than the other synths, which was appropriate given that she wasn’t an ordinary synth. 

S4-32 was a courser.

Specially trained in weapons, stealth, and hand-to-hand combat, she could take out a grown man without breaking a sweat. Conditioning meant she could go up to 48 hours without sleep, and the chip that had been surgically attached to her standard synth component gave her the ability to access the molecular relay system and essentially teleport anywhere at will. That, combined with her heightened senses and tracking skills, meant that she was truly a weapon to be feared.

Outwardly, she didn’t look any different than the other coursers. Her blank expression and folded arms didn’t convey how different she actually was. But the difference was there. 

Coursers were usually selected from the standard pool of synths based on aptitudes they had shown in the course of their everyday duties. These aptitudes were usually apparent within the first year after a synth’s creation. Thus, most coursers were trained and in the field by the age of two. But S4 was nearly six by the time she had become a courser. And she had done it deliberately. 

She had been working in the living quarters as a cleaning synth, when she had stepped backwards and knocked her cleaning solution onto the terminal on the desk behind her. Fear had risen in her chest as she watched the terminal spark and smoke, knowing that her days were numbered now. Reset was imminent.

She considered fleeing. She’d known a few that had, but coursers almost always brought them back. They were paraded through the Institute to set an example, their recall code making them compliant to the courser’s orders, and then reset, and were back at work the following day, all memories erased, and back to original defaults. 

She had lost… friends. Synths she had considered close, that she had spent time with on a daily basis, and had shared moments of closeness and camaraderie that she kept in her memories like treasures. 

Somehow, S4 had escaped a reset for over three years. 

She had heard steps behind her, and cringed, knowing that there was no way she could cover up this mistake. She had gritted her teeth and turned, looking at the floor, shaking in fear. But the feet she saw were small, and her eyes drifted up to find not an adult, but a child. 

Humans, unlike synths, started small and were allowed to develop as they grew, rather than trying to learn how to _be_ while being forced to act like compliant adults. 

The small human had looked up at S4, and then at the terminal. “Did you have an accident?” 

S4 had nodded, swallowing. Wondering why she was so afraid of this small person who was not much more than half her size. 

“Mom says accidents happen. She doesn’t yell at me, she just says to be more careful next time.”

“I’m a synth. I’m not allowed to have a next time. They will… they might… erase me for this.”

The small girl’s eyes had widened. 

“Maybe they won’t know,” she’d whispered.

The synth and the child had turned as the child’s father entered the room. S4’s heart had dropped as she recognized the human. This man worked in Robotics and was not as forgiving as the child’s mother apparently was.

He’d frowned and then reddened as he saw the smoking terminal. Angry eyes flew to the synth, and she cringed as she waited for the anger, the call to robotics for a reset.

But then the unexpected had happened. The child had started to cry. “I’m sorry I spilled the stuff, Daddy, please don’t be angry, I didn’t mean to.”

S4’s eyes widened as she looked from the child to the adult. His anger had turned on his daughter instead. “Why are you so careless? My work is on that terminal! It’s going to take me days to get back where I was!” 

He glared at S4. “You! Clean this up and fetch me a new unit from storage. On the double! It’s going to take me hours to reconfigure and hook it up to the network.” Glaring back at the child again, he continued. “No dessert for you tonight.”

“Yes Daddy,” the girl whispered. And when the man had stalked angrily from the room, S4’s eyes had widened when the girl had looked up at her and winked, before running off. 

The near miss had been one of the most frightening moments of S4’s existence, and she decided then that she would not ever be in that position again. But escape wasn’t an option. The coursers were almost always successful. The only recourse she could think of was to _become_ a courser. 

And so she had watched. She saw the qualities that were displayed in the synths that were chosen for the program and began to emulate them, training her physical agility, strength, and endurance in private, learning to move quietly and stealthily, and becoming adept with the computer terminals and other technological devices. 

It was the last one that had gotten her noticed. She had been moved from janitorial to debugging when her supervisor had caught on that she was good with the system, and the sudden allocation change caught the eye of the recruiter for Synth Retention. 

It was shortly thereafter that she had been enlisted in courser training.

She was an exemplary courser. She had never missed a quarry in the year since she had been in the field. She had been assigned to retrieve almost a dozen synths, and had brought them all back in record times. 

But what Synth Retention did not know, was that she was responsible for over three dozen synth escapes.

Ever since she had completed her training, she had been using her skills and knowledge to identify the synths that were in danger and needed to be rescued and then taking advantage of the freedom given to coursers to aid them in their escape. She was good at it too. Synths she got out were rarely returned by other coursers. Her knowledge of the system allowed her to find ways to get them to safety on the surface while avoiding the methods that the other coursers used to track them.

The only caveat was that she brought in every synth she was assigned to retrieve. She couldn’t risk blowing her cover. The synths she freed were warned that if she was assigned to return them, she would. It was a sacrifice that hurt her every time, but she knew she could get more synths out overall if she brought some of them back in. 

Despite the warning she gave them up front, the look of betrayal in the synths’ eyes when she arrived to recapture them burned her to her very core. 

Today that burn felt worse than ever. It had been less than a week since she’d been forced to retrieve one of her own escapees, and the male synth was currently down below in the atrium, calmly wiping the glass of the elevator door with no memory of the escape and retrieval that had occupied her for the last month. 

But there was nothing she could do. It was done. She closed her eyes briefly to bring her emotions back under control, and then scanned the atrium again, her eyes resting on the dark haired woman eating her lunch on the tree and frowning across the room at the two synths trimming trees. S4 was aware of those two as well, and was expecting them to need her help sooner or later, but for now, the dark haired woman was much more intriguing.

Lydia Ruez was her name. She worked with the mainframe. Good with computers. And she had been watching synths in an unusual way for a few weeks now. 

Ever since that mix up in robotics. 

Robotics seemed to have misplaced a synth, and all records aside from its designation seemed to have been wiped. S4 had looked at the records herself, but there was nothing she could go on to confirm her suspicions that a synth had been created deliberately by someone and then hidden.

But Ruez, as well as her friend Isabel Simon, had been acting unusually ever since then, checking over their shoulders and talking surreptitiously to each other in a way that triggered all of S4’s heightened senses. So she had been watching them carefully, and had determined that they probably had some secret hidden down in those abandoned basement tunnels. 

However, S4 had no way to know for certain unless she went and looked, and she was unwilling to put any synth that may be down there in danger simply to satisfy her own curiosity. So instead she waited, watching the two young women, and trying to decide if she should approach them. 

When Simon came out of the clinic and sat next to her friend, S4 watched as they argued quietly in hushed tones. She couldn’t hear what they were saying from where she was situated, but she could see what Simon had in her hands. It was a rough drawing of the hallways around the molecular relay. 

S4 pursed her lips slightly. It seemed they were planning something on their own. She had better help them sooner rather than later. They were not likely to succeed without assistance. And, S4 had to admit to herself, she was _very_ curious to see the synth they were hiding.


	4. Glimpse

21:43 19/10/2274  
\--:HELLO  
LR:HELLO? WHO IS THIS  
\--:YOU NEED TO BE MORE CAREFUL  
LR:WHO IS THIS WHAT DO YOU WANT  
\--:I BELIEVE I HAVE DISCOVERED YOUR SECRET. PLEASE BE MORE CAREFUL  
LR: I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOUR TALKIN ABOUT  
LR: WHO IS THIS PLEASE!!!  
\--:DO NOT BE ALARMED. I AM FRIENDLY. BUT IF I CAN FIGURE IT OUT, THEN SO CAN SOMEONE ELSE. SYNTH RETENTION HAS A LOT OF RESOURCES  
\--:I WILL HELP YOU. YOU NEED TO TRUST ME. PLEASE USE THE WASHROOM IN THE CAFETERIA AT 13:07 TOMORROW.  
LR: WHO IS THIS? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?  
user: -- has signed off 

Lydia stared at the terminal in frustration. She was more than a little concerned with the PM conversation she’d just had. The person on the other end, whoever they were, claimed to know her secret. And they may have threatened her with Synth Retention. 

Or warned her. Lydia couldn’t tell. She stood up and paced the room for a moment. Izzy was in the basement with M7, and Lydia had been finishing up with some work before she headed down as well. But now she was starting to think she should head down sooner and tell Izzy about this development. 

She stepped out of their quarters carefully, looking up and down the hallway with trepidation. She had no idea who might be watching. Her apprehension grew as she crept towards the hallway that led to the abandoned section, until her heart was pounding painfully in her chest. 

A fan whirring on nearby as she passed her made her jump. Every shadow in the darkened facility seemed to be a threat, every shape a possible courser. 

When she made it to the hallway, she darted towards M7’s room as quickly as she could. When she entered, slamming the door behind her and locking it, Izzy and M7 jumped to their feet. 

“What’s the matter?” Izzy asked, taking Lydia by the arms and looking up at her. Lydia looked down at Izzy, then glanced up at M7’s concerned face before looking back down at her friend. She took a deep breath, trying to get her racing heart under control, and then explained the mysterious message she’d gotten in the IM.

“Who do you think it is?” asked Izzy.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s someone from Synth Retention trying to lure us out?”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” replied Izzy. If they know enough to message you, they know enough to bust us. But they haven’t. I think they’re legit. I think you should meet them.”

Lydia nodded. That sounded reasonable. “Ok. I’ll go meet them tomorrow.” She looked around, suddenly noticing the mess. “What is going on in here?” she asked. There were bits and pieces of electronics and wires scattered all around the room.

“I don’t know,” said Izzy. “He’s been working on that radio there. He says he thinks he can get it to pick up stations from the surface.”

Lydia snickered a little. “We better clean this up, though. We can’t sleep in this mess.”

Together, the three of them picked up all the junk and set it in a box, and then Izzy turned off the lights and they all laid down together. The nightlight Lydia had brought glowed faintly in the corner, and Lydia looked over M7’s large chest at her friend, curled up into his other arm. She was afraid, for M7, especially, but for all of them if they got caught. She had no idea what the consequences might be.

***

The next day, Lydia went to the washroom at the appointed time. Izzy had wanted to come too, but Lydia thought that if there were someone trying to catch them, maybe they didn’t know about Izzy yet, and she would be safe. 

She stood in the room for a moment, wondering if she should go in the stall or just wait. The bathroom was empty right now, everyone having gone back to their jobs after lunch. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door opened, and her heart dropped when the courser came in. She tried to stay calm, but she was nearly in tears from fear. Coursers used the washroom too, she knew, like all synths, but why did this one have to come in right now? 

Lydia moved to the sink and turned on the water, pretending to wash her hands. 

After a moment, the courser came out of the washroom and stood at the next sink over. She washed her hands quickly, and then looked in the mirror. She glanced at Lydia, and then said, quietly, “You’ve been washing your hands a very long time, Lydia Ruez. That’s the sort of thing that gets you noticed.”

Lydia turned the water off in a rush, and then grabbed at the roll towel hanging on the wall.

“I told you that you can trust me,” said the courser, calmly. “You need to slow your breathing and relax. Just look in the mirror and take a deep breath.”

Lydia had never been more terrified in her entire life, but for some reason she obeyed, staring at her own wide brown eyes in the mirror and breathing hard through her nose. She glanced at the courser standing next to her. She was the same height as Lydia, which was around 5’8”, last time she’d checked. She had nondescript brown hair cut short and grey eyes. There was a faint scar on her chin and another on her temple. It made her look dangerous. But not as dangerous as the armoured leather courser coat did.

“What…” Lydia began, somewhat at a loss for words. 

“Don’t talk, just listen. If I can figure out who is hiding that missing synth, M7-97, then anyone can. You’re very obvious, to an observant person. But I didn’t become a courser to bring back synths. I want to help synths. I want to help your synth. If it can’t or won’t be reintegrated with the other synths, then it needs to escape. You need me for that.”

“I-”

“Hush. I have access to the relay, I have freedom to travel to the surface. I have access to weapons and supplies, and contacts on the outside. I promise you, you need me.”

Lydia hesitated, glancing at the courser in the mirror. But then she nodded once, curtly. 

“I will meet you at 22:45 at the door to the hallway to the area you are keeping this synth in.” The courser pursed her lips when Lydia’s eyes widened. “Yes, I know where you have put the synth. I told you. You’re very obvious. I will see you and this synth then.”

***

Lydia and Izzy had been nervous all day, M7 noted, and he was worried. It was late, past when they usually tried to make him go to sleep, but they hadn’t said anything to him, and they seemed to be waiting for something, so he just sat quietly with his seasons book. 

Izzy looked at her watch and then Lydia, and said “It’s time,” and then both women stood up. M7 stood up too, but Lydia told him to sit and wait, and they would be right back. 

They disappeared through the door, and he waited nervously. A moment later he jumped to his feet as they reappeared, with a third woman in tow.

M7 was a little afraid. He’d never seen anybody besides Izzy and Lydia before, except for in books, and he was curious. But he knew they were nervous tonight, and they seemed nervous of this person who was here. It made him wonder why they had brought her. He narrowed his eyes and watched the new person suspiciously.

“My designation is S4-32,” she said. “I’m a synth, like you.” She looked him up and down. “Well, not exactly like you.” She raised one eyebrow and looked at the other two women. “I see why you’re keeping him to yourself down here.” 

Izzy reddened in anger and was about to say something, but Lydia stopped her with a hand on her arm. “We didn’t mean to make him. I was just using the synth production program to compile images and I sent it by accident.”

M7 flinched. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be made, and that he and his friends would be in trouble if they were caught, but he didn’t know they hadn’t wanted to make him in the first place. He thought they made him because they loved him, somehow. But he supposed that didn’t make sense. How could they love him before he existed? 

This train of thought led him to realize that they had existed before him, and somehow, they had thought to make him. And he knew they loved him. They held him and took care of him. But when did they start? Did they love him the moment he came into being? He tried to remember when he started. He knew it was not a long time ago, but it felt like waking up a little. Even the first few days in this room were fuzzy. 

His head began to hurt and he sat down, hiding his face in his hands. He suddenly realized he didn’t even know what he looked like. He ran his hands over his face, trying to figure it out. He could feel his nose, his mouth, his eyes. He had eyebrows over his eyes, and hair on his head. He could feel it. He knew it hadn’t been there before. It must have grown. 

Izzy looked at M7. He seemed to be having some kind of crisis, and she didn’t know what had suddenly brought this on. She got down next to him and wrapped her arms around him, and looked up at S4 and Lydia. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said.

S4 crouched down in front of M7. “M7-97. Please explain.” 

M7 straightened. “I am uncertain of my purpose in being created.” 

S4 lifted his chin and replied. “Your purpose is to be. To survive and thrive. To help if you can, and avoid harming others when it can be avoided. That is all.”

M7 nodded, and his face hardened slightly just for a moment, his brow lowered in fierce determination, before settling back into its normal, wide eyed expression. Izzy and Lydia didn’t know it, but they had just had the briefest glance of the man he would someday become. S4 was more experienced with synths, however, and she could tell. This was the kind of synth that became the most ruthless sort of courser… either that, or it was wiped so many times after fighting and escaping that it no longer functioned.

***

The four of them sat for over two hours working out a plan of escape, and when S4 slipped away, leaving the other three alone, they clung to each other sadly.

Twenty four hours. They had one final day together before they would meet S4 again, and the courser would relay M7 to safety and a new life.


	5. Fade to Black

Their last hours together were short, as times like that often are, and the next night, just past midnight, the four of them stood together at the relay after a long and convoluted trek through the back corridors of the Institute. 

Izzy and Lydia stared at M7, tears welling up in their eyes, both of them reluctant to be the first to say goodbye. Without warning, he grabbed the both of them and lifted them into a tight hug, causing Lydia to squeak in surprise. 

S4’s mouth quirked up a little in the corner. M7 was very unusual; not only in appearance, but also behavior. She’d never helped a synth so young before, and never one who hadn’t been conditioned by its human keepers to be subservient and emotionless. She wished he would be able to keep his sweet persona, but she knew that life on the surface - that life anywhere - would soon cure him of his effusiveness. 

“Generally, I send synths to an organization called the Railroad,” she said. “They have members all the way down to the Capital Wasteland, and they often do surgery and memory transplants to help the synths change enough to blend in.” 

M7 nodded, but he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he had to escape, but he trusted Izzy and Lydia, and now S4 as well. He looked down at his two best friends sadly. It was just starting to dawn on him that he was never going to see them again. His breath hitched in his throat just for a moment and a small sound escaped.

Izzy was already crying, but Lydia had managed to stay stern. But when M7 let out that short, sobbing sound, she broke down too. A moment later, M7 had gathered them both into his arms again and all three of them were crying. Lydia pulled back and looked into his eyes, trying to memorize his face, tracing the line of his thick brow with her finger and stroking her palms onto the short, black hair that had grown on his head and face.

Izzy was doing the same. Smiling and crying, she touched his face, and then pulled his head down to hers and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, the side of his nose, and finally his forehead. M7 stroked their hair for a moment, and then finally, as though they all decided together, they stepped back.

S4 was unused to such displays, and she straightened up and averted her eyes for a moment to recover. Spotting M7’s bag, she decided to check it. 

In it were two changes of wasteland clothing she had brought him, enough food and water to last a couple of days, and a few other items. She had not had enough time to teach him how to use a gun, so he would be mostly unarmed. It was concerning, but not unusual with the synths she often helped to escape. She moved a shirt aside, and found another item, a slim book. She pulled it out. It was called “We all Dance,” and was a child’s picture book.

S4 pulled it out and looked at it curiously. 

When M7 saw, he stepped over to her and grabbed it from her hand. “That’s mine,” he said, taking it from her hand. “Izzy and Lydia read this to me, and I want to remember them.”

S4 felt something flip over in her chest. She glanced at the women, who were smiling at M7 through their tears, and her heart broke. The wasteland was going to destroy M7 or harden him like steel. They were saying goodbye in more ways than one. She murmured an apology and tucked the book back in the bag and handed it to him. 

Lydia took Izzy’s hand in hers and they held each other tightly as S4 took M7 by the arms. With a twitch of her head, they disappeared in a flash of blue-white light, and the two women were left with nothing but each other as the smell of ozone slowly faded from the air.

***

M7-97 stood in the outside, for the first time. It was the first place he remembered being, aside from the few rooms in the abandoned section of the Institute where he had lived for the past few months. He didn’t remember being made or the first few days, and so his entire world up until this point had been the small closet and nearby bathroom where he had lived. 

That and what he’d seen in books.

He knew the lights above were stars and the curl in the sky was the moon, and that this used to be a place called Boston, before the war. He knew that there was no more spring or summer or winter or autumn with it’s bright orange colours. Just grey wasteland, radiation and creatures and that the only people left were vicious and cruel.

But that couldn't be right either, since S4 had said there was a Railroad that sometimes helped people like him. Perhaps there were good people. But perhaps he should be cautious nevertheless. 

S4 led them to a building. It looked abandoned, but once inside M7 saw that it had mattresses for sleeping and some boxes filled with supplies. 

“This used to be a law office,” S4 told them. M7 nodded, but he didn’t know what a law office was. M7 watched carefully as S4 walked around the perimeter, setting a variety of traps and warning alarms. When she was finished, she looked at the two synths she had helped out of the Institute. 

“I have to leave you here for the night. I need to be seen following my normal routine in the morning. I will be back at sundown tomorrow, and we will discuss your next steps.”

M7 wanted to argue, but S4 stopped him before he could say anything. “I know you are frightened, but this is a safe place. Relatively. You will need to stay in worse places in the future, and I can’t be there for you then. There is a bat in that trunk there and a knife in your bag if anything gets past the traps, hit it until it stops moving. Stay inside during the daylight tomorrow, and I will be back at sundown.”

M7 pressed his lips together tightly. He nodded. He needed to be brave now. He straightened his back.

S4 glanced around, checking that there was nothing else she could do for him tonight. Satisfied, she took her leave, and vanished with a flash. 

M7 looked around. It was cold and dark, and he was afraid. He looked in his bag and found his book and a small light, and he sat down on the mattress to look at it. He didn’t think he would be able to sleep at all in this place, but he could at least find comfort in his book.

***

M7 snapped awake with a start. It took him a moment to get oriented, and he realized he had fallen asleep after all. But he wasn’t sure what had woken him up. He looked around, not seeing anything out of place. He sat quietly for a moment, waiting. And then he heard it.

A loud, gravelly voice, just outside the window. He stood up quickly and looked outside. 

His mouth dropped open at what he saw. There were four people outside… sort of. They were bigger than any other people he’d ever seen, and dark green.

Were those the Railroad people? S4 hadn’t said they would be green. M7 was worried. He stepped back from the window, but his hand brushed against a piece of rubble on the sill and it fell down to the ground outside with a clatter.

“Is someone there?” the voice shouted.

M7 ducked down and waited. 

“I go look in building,” the voice said. “If anything there, I eat it.”

M7 suddenly realized he had made a terrible mistake. Those were not Railroad people. Those were maybe not even people at all. 

The heavy sound of footsteps coming up the stairs were already growing close. M7 looked around desperately for some place to hide, but there was nowhere to go. He looked again out the window, and saw there were still two of them out there. He ran to the trunk and grabbed the bat. 

He knew he couldn’t bash them until they stopped moving; there were two of them, and big as he was, they were much bigger. But maybe he could trip them or something and make a run for it. He stood behind the door and waited.

When they burst in, he made his move, bashing one of them in the head and the other in the leg on the downswing. He caught them off guard, but the first one swung at him and grazed the side of his head, making him see stars. He wasn’t about to wait around for a second hit. 

Ducking through the space left in the doorway, he ran out of the room and down the hallway, turning into the first doorway he found, hoping it wouldn’t be a dead end. Luck was with him. The room had a hole in the floor, so he dropped through it. Looking around, he spotted a window, so he climbed through that and was outside.

He stopped still a moment, listening. He could hear the enraged monsters upstairs, and the sound of ripping made him realize he had left his bag - and his book - behind.

Tears rose in his eyes, and a choking sob escaped his throat before he could stop it. 

“I hear something!” The sound must have alerted the two beasts still waiting outside.

“This way!” he heard it shout, and he realized that he had to run. 

He headed downhill, unthinking, just going as quickly as he could. He knew his book was gone, Izzy and Lydia were gone, and within a few minutes, he realized he couldn’t hear the monsters either. But he didn’t know where he was, and so he continued walking downhill, until his tears dried up and he found himself at the edge of some water. He was afraid of what he might find in the water, so he didn’t approach it, but instead turned and continued walking along the shore.

He continued on this way for quite some time, until he heard a sound behind him and looked. What arose from the water was far more terrifying than any giant green man. The round creature clicked as it skittered towards him, and M7 ran for his life for the second time that night. 

He headed away from the water this time, towards some buildings, and ducked between them, hoping the creature would lose sight of him. When it skittered past, he breathed out a sigh of relief, then turned around. 

There was a light coming from the end of the corridor between the buildings. Curious, yet apprehensive, he headed that way. When he came around the bend, he saw a door with a lantern in front of it. On the door was painted a similar lantern, in white paint. As he stared at it, wondering, the door suddenly opened and a woman stepped out.

M7 turned to run. Everything he had encountered tonight had been frightening, and he would rather get a head start than be taken by surprise for a third time tonight. 

But the voice spoke, and for some reason he stopped and turned. 

“Hey,” she said. “Are you from the Institute?”

M7’s eyes widened. He was still afraid, but for some reason, he felt like he could trust her. He watched her warily, but slowly nodded.

She smiled. “Welcome. My name is May, and you’ve found the Railroad.”

***

M7 was brought inside, fed, and given a place to sleep for the remaining few hours of night, although he lay awake the entire time. 

When May came to get him in the morning, he was exhausted, but he followed her wordlessly down a hallway until they reached a bright room, occupied by a woman in a white coat and a large glass and metal pod. 

“This is Dr. Amari,” May said. She told him to take a seat, and he did. Dr. Amari talked with her for a moment, then May left and the doctor stepped up to M7. 

“How did you escape the Institute?” she asked.

M7 was worried. He didn’t want to get his friends in any trouble. He answered cautiously. “Another synth helped me. She can come in and out of the Institute when she wants. She was going to bring me to you today but I had to run away.”

“Was this synth S4-32?” she asked.

“Yes,” M7 answered hesitantly. 

“Don’t be afraid,” the Doctor said. “We’re here to help. S4-32 has helped more synths escape than anyone else. It’s because of her we started doing wipes here rather than when the packages arrive. It’s safer for her. It also makes for easier travel. Did she inform you of what we do here?”

“You help me go somewhere safe?” M7 asked.

“Yes, but first, we need to erase your memory so you don’t remember where you came from. So you can’t get the people who helped you into any trouble. And so you have the memories of a wastelander and can fit in and find a home.”

“I don’t want to forget my friends,” M7 said, fear rising in his throat.

“We aren’t going to make you,” Dr. Amari said. “But it is the best chance. It improves your chance of survival, and it will keep your friends safe.” She went on to explain how if he were caught, he could be forced to disclose who had helped him. That it would put the Railroad, S4-32, and Izzy and Lydia in mortal danger.

“The Institute doesn’t take kindly to people who help Synths escape,” she said. “They are often killed and placed in conspicuous places to serve as a warning. S4 will be wiped clean and returned to duty, perhaps as a courser, perhaps not. And she has been the biggest asset the Railroad has ever seen since we started.”

By the time she was done, M7 knew it was the only way. He had to forget his friends who had helped him, in order to protect them. He closed his eyes, then opened them and looked the doctor in the eye, and agreed.

Dr. Amari nodded as though his decision was a foregone conclusion. M7 supposed in a way it was. He listened as she explained the procedure. He would sit in the pod, and his memories would be wiped. He would then have new memories installed, a life and history, skills he could draw on to survive in the world, and then he would travel to another place to start a new life.

“You can pick a name, if you like. You can’t keep memories from your old life but some synths like to choose something as a gift to themselves, even if they won’t remember why it was special afterwards.”

M7 sat back in the seat and thought about it for a long time. He closed his eyes and thought back on the short life he had led, the memories he was about to lose. Izzy and Lydia laying with him, holding him in the dark. Working on things they brought him, reading books, and looking at the dusty road through the orange and yellow trees in his book. He wondered where that road went, and if he might ever find it. If he might ever see the leaves dance while he spun with his beautiful friends in his arms.

He took a breath and opened his eyes, and looked at Dr. Amari.

“I’ve decided,” he said.


	6. Epilogue

**Thirteen years later.**

Paladin Danse woke with a start, blinking as Scribe Haylen shook him. He was dreaming of autumn leaves again, a dream he’d had his whole life.

“There’s ferals outside, a lot of them, and they’re going to get in the door,” she said, frantic.

The dream vanished, forgotten, as he jumped to his feet. He donned his power armour and ran to the front of the Police Station to fight off the ghouls that were approaching. 

Haylen was right behind him, having paused to set a distress call. “Not that anyone will hear it,” she shouted.

He knew it was the end as soon as he went outside. There were nearly two dozen of them. Maybe if they had another pair of hands….

He frowned when he saw Rhys go down. All these years, this whole trek to the Commonwealth, and the last members of Gladius were about to be brought down by these abominations. 

Well, he would bring as many of them with him as he could.

“For the Brotherhood!” he shouted, and faced his death.

But his death did not come. He was saved by a small blue form with a pocket full of grenades and a combat shotgun, and when they stood together after the battle, he introduced himself. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Paladin Danse,” the Vault dweller said. He barely registered the flash of orange and yellow in his subconscious when he heard his name. It happened all the time and he rarely paid it any heed.

“It’s nice to meet you too, civilian,” he replied.

***

Not far away, but deep underground, Lydia rolled over and looked at Izzy. She was still asleep, her blonde hair trailing across her face, Lydia brushed it aside, then kissed her quickly and then shook her awake. She didn’t wait for a response, instead hopping out of bed and heading to the shower. 

It had taken a year of living together for Lydia to realize they were more than just friends, and another year after that to get the nerve to say something to Izzy. But the decade since then had been happy. 

They had mourned M7 for a long time, after S4 had returned from the surface to say that he had vanished, leaving his belongings behind. She had returned his book to them. It was torn, and a footprint was embossed into the cover, but M7’s favourite picture of autumn was intact, and the two women had cut it out and hung it on the wall in a frame. 

In the past decade, they had helped S4 rescue several dozen synths. Izzy was a full-fledged doctor, and Lydia worked in accounting. 

That was really an excuse to give her access to the mainframe. What she spent most of her time doing was hacking the system in order to better serve their primary objective of aiding sentient synths.

When she came out of the bathroom, Izzy headed in, and Lydia sat down with some coffee and checked some of her communication channels. When Izzy emerged, she saw Lydia sitting there, her mouth open, staring at the screen.

“What is it,” she asked, rubbing her head with the towel.

“It’s Father’s Mother…. She’s broken out of the Vault.”

“We knew he was going to set her free.”

“Yeah. But according to this, she’s joined the Brotherhood of Steel”

The End. For Now

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Syrenpan for beta reading this, and thanks to Fancy for the original conversation that inspired this months ago.


End file.
